


Friend and Foe

by LindseyWells



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Binge Eating Disorder, Binging, Comfort Eating, Drug Withdrawal, Eating Disorders, Gen, Self-Hatred, Vomiting, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindseyWells/pseuds/LindseyWells
Summary: While battling the side effects of a self-imposed Adderall withdrawal, Angus slowly realizes that another addiction has been accompanying him for as long as he can remember. (set after 1x18)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Archer/DrWhohouselock221b for the great beta reader service!

The silence of his third free day nearly drove Angus insane.  
It had been three days since he had last popped a pill of Adderall and by now Angus felt like a worn-out play ball, which had been kicked right into the unknown by the relentless withdrawal. Unable to take control over this hellish trip, Angus just rolled through the painful mess currently called his life. His spinning thoughts caused him a permanent headache and wiping the sweat from his forehead was in vain for the salty liquid reconquered it in no time. His throat was permanently desiccated and his strained muscles threatened to burst his skin.

Yet, Angus knew pretty well that there was no way around this torment. The ongoing Adderall abuse would only lead to more unbearable experiences and Angus surely did not need any more of them, his biography was already stained with them. Usually he somehow managed to lock most of them out of his conscious. At the moment, however, the number of said experiences – endless embarrassments, cutting humiliations, wrong decisions, and fatal personal deficiencies – appeared higher than ever, and despite Angus's mental efforts, they inexorably poured out off his memory and flooded his puny self-esteem, which sank quick as a stone.  
The familiar feeling of worthlessness made him shiver. The grisly feeling never had the manners to properly introduce itself to him. It just slipped into his childhood like a demon, possessing his life ever since. He clearly remembered its presence when other children called him a fatty or whenever his mother only weakly smiled at his preschool paintings. Young Angus could only wonder why she never pinned his pictures on the fridge, as she did with most of Mike's. He had meant to ask her, but for some unknown reason had not dared to. Instead, he had smothered the urge with a huge bite of the chocolate chip cookie she had handed him as a reward for his "good work." The baked good had acted like a true friend: It sweetly petted Angus's sad soul and filled his stomach with the calming weight of rich chocolate. It was like an injection of comfort, and his brain had unconsciously learned to turn food into an equivalent for love and care.

Driven by this misconception, Angus had become used to automatically snatching a candy bar or whatever was at hand whenever an unpleasant feeling crossed his path. Maybe it was the visible shame on his mother's face when somebody mentioned that he was rather on the heavy side and that a child's weight was always its mother's responsibility. Or maybe it was the disappointment in his father's eyes when he didn't make the football team. Or maybe the people in high school, mostly girls, who only pretended to like him because of his enormously popular, elderly brother. Mike had always been naturally charming and talented. Plus, he was funny and a really good company in general. Or in other words: He was everything Angus was not.

Mike himself did not agree with this, of course he didn't. He always had an imperturbable image of Angus which had absolutely nothing to do with Angus's self-image. And each time Mike wrapped his thoughts in praise and nice comments, Angus felt like he didn't deserve this precious gift, as if it was not addressed to him and he only took care of it until the rightful owner of the compliment decided to pay him a visit and collect the testimony of kindness. Angus hated how he could not absorb his brother's gifts. His brain might be able to remember all the well meant words, but somehow it could not relate them to his persona.

The fact that he fell for the Adderall was just another thing Angus had come to hate about himself. At first, he had been far too skeptical to try the drug. But then there had been a challenging amount of work to master and all he could think was that Adderall could not be that bad if the competent and extremely hard-working Dr. Pinkney used the pills as well. Angus's suspicion had quickly been confirmed. Shortly after he had swallowed the tiny pill, the Adderall's fantastic effect had kicked in. For the first time in his life he was not only able to cope perfectly well with all the stress related to his work, but he was also highly concentrated and felt extremely self-confident.

Of that self-confidence, there was nothing left. The drug-induced elation had been replaced by a leaden depression which had chained Angus to his bed for the greatest part of the past three days. The heavy smell of sweat-soaked linen and stagnant air filled the whole apartment, and the kitchen counter was littered with dirty dishes and empty food packages, simply because he lacked the motivation to stand up and take care of the chaos. And that definitely would not change today, although he was about to force himself out off bed and into the kitchen. Once there, he instinctively opened a cabinet and scanned the large assortment of bunkered snacks. No matter how time-consuming his job at the Angels Memorial Hospital was, he always made sure to have enough food at home. His fridge, his freezer, and his kitchen cabinets were all richly filled. It was a precautionary measure, for food was his protective wall.

Despite the Adderall-induced nausea Angus was suffering from, he fetched a box of chocolate muffins from the cabinet. Food was good. Food was here in these black hours. It was his elixir for survival. Muffins never mentioned his weight. Cookies never cared about his popularity. Chips never thought he was unattractive. Twinkies never made him feel unwelcome, and Skittles never laughed when he blushed in the company of a cute girl.  
God, he would have never made it till today without food!

By the time his teeth met the fourth muffin, he had wholeheartedly dissociated from reality. Mechanically, he stuffed the rest of the muffin into his mouth and then reached for the helping hand of yet another sweet friend. A good friend, a true friend. Not someone like Mario who did not even have the guts to tell him that he was fucking the girl Angus wanted to date. No bowl of Cheerios and no bag of Lay's had ever betrayed him like this!  
Munching furiously, he opened the freezer and shoved two burgers into the microwave. While the electronic display ticked second after second away, he bypassed the waiting time with a bag of M&Ms and a package of double Oreos.

When the burgers were finally ready for consumption, Angus burnt his tongue and did not care. Pain, disappointment, self-hate, as well as the pestering thoughts about a dead bastard who had attacked Malaya, none of it existed in Angus's current state of intoxication anymore. His muscles relaxed and his brain shut off. The familiar taste of chocolate, peanuts, fat, cookies, cheese, and beef had narcotized him.  
For him, food was not only a loyal ally and universal remedy. It was also the perfect anesthetic. And it was not at all uncommon for him to gulp down such huge amounts of food in a row in no time. In fact, he often came home after work and ate like a berserk.

This time, however, he made the calculation without his withdrawal-weakened stomach. He was just about to finish the last bite of his hamburger with a can of Dr Pepper when the sudden revolution in his body began. Overwhelmed by a piercing cramp, Angus could but bend over the kitchen sink. The blasting sound of his retching brought his euthanized soul back to reality, while his every muscle was shaken by the violent heaves of vomiting.

Breathing heavily, he clung to the kitchen sink and stared at the disgustingly smelling mush in front him. His knees felt like pudding, his cheeks were smeared with tears, his heart was aching, and his whole mouth was filled with sour bitterness. His stomach, though, felt relieved, as if somebody had turned it upside down and its contents had just dropped out.  
This lightness, this salvation was new.  
A new side of a friend he thought he knew inside out. So far, he had never thrown up after a binge, and presently Angus was so confused and enfeebled that he didn't know what to think or how to feel about this. Deep inside, he had long accepted that his relationship with food was somehow disturbed. Yet, he had always adhered to it. For the greater good. For survival. That was legitimate, was not it?  
Yes. Of course, it was.  
But as a doctor, he should know better...  
He should face the fact that his behavior was everything but normal, let alone healthy. Maybe it would be best if he talked about his eating issues with the therapist, on whose waiting list he currently was and who was supposed to help him come to terms with the incident in the parking garage. The doctor in Angus strongly recommended that. But then, when did food, his best friend, ever betray him?


End file.
